Читать книгу Love Islands…The Collection - Ким Лоренс, Jane Porter - Страница 19

BEN HATED THIS awful white box of a room. He hated hospitals, he hated relying on medical science, he hated feeling helpless, useless... Ben surged to his feet, wincing as his chair scraped noisily on the floor.

In her cot Emmy continued to sleep, although she stirred a little and so did Lily in her chair. Quietly he made his way to the door and, holding his breath, closed it carefully behind him. He turned and found Elizabeth Gray standing there watching him.

Since he had made his bone-marrow donation her attitude had thawed. There was just a thin layer of frost now when she spoke to him.

Ben didn’t blame her.

‘They’re asleep. I was just going to get some fresh air.’

‘Lily said you reminded her of a tiger in a cage.’

‘Did she? I don’t really like hospitals. Can I get you anything? Coffee?’

Ben took her rejection philosophically and was about to move away when her voice made him turn back.

‘Can I ask you something that I’ve always been curious about?’

‘Sure you can ask. I can’t guarantee I’ll answer.’ Having braced himself to defend behaviour that, from any loving parent’s point of view, was indefensible her actual question took him by surprise.

‘Your parents had what most people would call an unhappy marriage.’

‘That’s putting it politely. Others would call it hell.’

‘I always wondered, why did they stay together? They weren’t religious or—?’

Ben gave a dry laugh. It was a question he had asked himself on more than one occasion. ‘Honestly, I don’t have a clue. They both threatened it over the years, but neither carried through... Maybe in some twisted way, for them at least, the marriage worked...’ he speculated with a mystified shake of his head ‘...or it could be that they were just too stubborn to admit they’d made a mistake.’

Elizabeth nodded. ‘Some people should not be together.’

‘Marriage is a leap in the dark,’ he countered cynically.

‘What about your investments? Don’t they involve the same thing?’ she teased gently.

He angled a narrow-eyed look at her face. ‘Are you trying to get in my head, Mrs Gray?’

She smiled. ‘Call me Elizabeth.’

‘Risks are easy when you’re only dealing with money, Elizabeth.’

‘You know, I think I might have that coffee, Ben.’

He sprinted for the lift, silently cursing the estate agent who’d made him late. He glanced at his watch—had he missed the doctor’s round?

It was all the estate agent’s fault. The guy had been creating problems where there were none, as far as Ben was concerned. He had zero interest in getting the best deal or calling anyone’s bluff. If the vendors wanted more money, they could have it.

In the end, he’d had to spell it out.

‘Give them a blank cheque. I don’t give a damn, so long as I have the keys for tomorrow.’

The guy had looked at him as though he was insane.

‘Blank cheque?’ he’d echoed, sounding scandalised by the suggestion.

Ben had silenced him with a look.

This morning the guy had been sitting with his commission cheque in his hot hand, telling Ben that it had been a pleasure doing business with him and apologising profusely for having one last paper for him to sign.

Walking down the long corridor that led to the specialist unit, he passed a couple he recognised and nodded before continuing on. His stab of sympathy was mingled with a feeling of relief. It was weird, but you quickly got to know when people had had bad news, simply from their body language.

Buzzed onto the ward, he did not hurry the hygiene rules. The strict measures to protect the vulnerable child from infection had become second nature to him over the past couple of weeks. Shrugging on the gown, he almost collided with the two figures standing outside Emmy’s room.

Ben felt as if someone had reached into his chest; the icy fingers tightened around his heart as the implications of what he was seeing hit him. He froze as Lily, oblivious to his presence, her head on her mother’s shoulder, continued to weep uncontrollably.

For the past couple of weeks she had kept a constant vigil at Emmy’s bedside, refusing a bed when one came up in the purpose-built block that housed parents of children who arrived at the specialist centre from all over the country. It was the best; Ben had made it his business to find out. During that time her cheerful, positive façade had stayed firmly in place. On the couple of occasions it had slipped and she’d needed to vent, he had been philosophical about taking the flak—at least he was good for something and there was precious little else he could do.

He had suffered moments of black doubt, but not Lily. There had never been any if, it had always been when Emily Rose got better.

While the doctors had been upbeat about the outcome, apparently it was rare for a parent to be a full match but he was. They had warned that compatibility, even full compatibility, did not guarantee success. They spoke a lot about multiple factors affecting the outcome.

Had Lily heard them? Or had she, as he suspected, tuned out anything she couldn’t cope with? The latter, he suspected. It had been obvious from the outset that she was in denial and intended to stay that way.

Ben had tried not to think how she would react if the worst happened...now he knew. The sound of her sobs tore at him, as did his sense of total, utter helplessness.

Less than three weeks ago he hadn’t known he had a child. He hadn’t known what he’d feel; not feeling anything had been his biggest fear. Yet when he had walked into the room and seen the tiny, terrifyingly frail figure lying asleep in the white hospital bed, her eyelashes fanned out across cheeks that might have once been rosy but were now pale as milk, emotions he had not known existed, feelings he hadn’t known he was capable of, had welled up in his chest. So strong he’d felt as if he were drowning.

He had hoped, he had prayed that he could learn to love his child, to prove himself worthy, but there was no learning involved. It was as genetically pre-programmed as breathing.

These were feelings that he’d never have known. Fear that he was as selfish and cold as his mother, or as uninterested as his father, would have kept him from experiencing them if Lily hadn’t fallen pregnant.

Their two-year-old had shown more guts than he had! He should have thanked Lily instead of blaming her. Whichever way you looked at it, half the responsibility and blame was his. Was it any wonder she had been and still was wary of his attempts to be part of Emmy’s life? It was not a right, it was a privilege and one that Ben had set out to prove himself worthy of.

Too late. He closed his eyes, drawing in a deep shuddering breath, seeing a stream of images. They hurt but he prized each one. For the past two weeks, since Emily Rose had been infused with his cells, he had seen her every day. He had felt despair and anger as he’d watched her suffer, helpless to do a thing about it. His face-to-face contact was limited to a few short periods when Lily ate or showered; how she coped remained a mystery to him.

She smiled but her eyes held a haunted look that no amount of optimism could disguise. And, in unguarded moments, a sense of helplessness and despair he recognised all too well.

There were times when, to vent his anger or frustration, he wanted to hit something. Instead Ben channelled his energies to more practical things.

A firm believer that knowledge was power, and for once in his life he felt he had precious little of that, Ben read up on the disease so that he had a better understanding of the information the medical staff disclosed.

He set himself achievable goals. Sometimes they seemed pathetically small, like making Emmy laugh twice a day. He was not Daddy—it was much too soon—so he was the funny man. Encouraging her to eat at least two mouthfuls of everything on her meal plate. And making sure that when the time came they wouldn’t find themselves in the same situation as other families—whose discharge had been delayed because they lived outside the area that allowed quick access should an emergency arise—hence his meeting with the estate agent.

When did I start thinking of us as a family?

The solution to the last problem had been simple: buy a suitable house. Today he’d ticked that off his list, but his quiet sense of satisfaction vanished the moment he saw Lily’s tears. He felt the implication like a fist landing with the force of a sledgehammer in his solar plexus. He stood frozen, immobilised by the emotions that broke free inside him.

As she drew back from her mum’s embrace a movement in the periphery of her vision made Lily turn her head. Ben was standing there raking a hand through his dark hair that over the last couple of weeks had grown longer, curling crisply against his collar. Through the loose white gown, that they all wore on the ward, she could see one of the brightly coloured ties he had taken to wearing every day.

The sight of him revealing the day’s fashion faux pas with a magician-like flourish to Emmy never failed to make Lily’s throat tighten. Today it made her howl.

His face contorted as he held out his arms. ‘I am so, so sorry.’

Her normal mantra of Don’t rely on him, he might not be here tomorrow failed. Today she was too emotional, too giddy with relief to show the normal level of caution. Instead, crying out his name, she flew into his arms.

Enfolded in his strength, her head against his chest, it took her a few moments to realise what he was saying as he stroked her hair... ‘Sorry...sorry.’

She pulled back, catching his big hand between the two of hers as she looked up into his face shaking her head. ‘No...no... I’m crying because I’m happy.’ She sniffed, loosening his hand and pressing both of hers to her face.

‘Happy?’

Her hands fell away; her lovely eyes, red-rimmed and bloodshot from many sleepless nights, glowed as though lit from within.

‘It’s taken. Emmy is going to be all right—the transplant has taken. You know the last results were—’ she lifted her hands and sketched ironic inverted commas in the air ‘—promising? Well, the latest results are back and they are conclusive—the transplant has taken.’

Ben didn’t do anything, he just stood there staring at her, much the way she had done when the doctor had taken her to his office to break the good news. Barely aware of what she was doing, she grabbed one of his hands and, lifting it, pressed her cheek to his palm before pressing a kiss to it.

Laughing, she barely registered his expression as she turned and hugged her mother before swinging back to Ben. ‘It’s taken, Ben, it’s really taken.’ Her voice cracked and broke with emotion.

Ben watched the tears spill from her eyes. His entire body felt as a frozen extremity did when the circulation returned...feeling had burned away the protective layer that had enabled him to function, stripping his emotions bare. With a painful stab of self-awareness he knew there would be no going back. A man could walk around with a void inside him once he recognised it for what it was—fear.

Lily was laughing and crying, squeezing his hand again. He struggled to respond, to match her bubbling happiness.

‘I thought—’

‘Sorry, I know.’ She took a deep steadying breath. ‘I have to say thank you. If it wasn’t for you Emmy might not be here. You’ve been kind even when I... I will never forget what you did.’

Ben pulled his hand away, suddenly annoyed. ‘I didn’t do it for that. I don’t want your gratitude.’

If she asked him what he did want, what would he say?

She didn’t ask him, she just looked at him, clearly puzzled by his reaction, so he asked himself. What did he want?

His eyes widened as the answer surprised him.

Lily tentatively touched his arm. ‘Are you all right?’ Well, that was what she’d intended to say, but she wasn’t sure whether it all came out because quite suddenly her knees went, there was a loud buzzing in her head and the floor came up to meet her.

Ben stepped forward and caught her before she hit the ground. Grunting softly, he hefted her higher into his arms. ‘Could we have a doctor here?’ Looking down at the pale face of the woman in his arms, he felt emotions he had spent weeks struggling not to acknowledge break free. ‘The place is full of bloody doctors, so where are they when you need one?’

‘Is she breathing?’ They all had their breaking point and this was obviously Elizabeth’s. ‘She’s not breathing.’

‘She is,’ he assured her. ‘She’s just fainted. Exhausted probably.’

‘Thank God, thank God, I knew this would happen!’ Maternal concern found release in a shrill string of loving criticism as Elizabeth patted her unconscious daughter’s head. ‘I knew it! You have no idea how stubborn she can be! She just can’t accept help, it’s always I don’t want to be a bother... Bother? She’s my little girl. I want to help. I need to help.’

Her words resonated. I need to help. He totally understood the sentiment. It remained one that he was unable to articulate. After he had done his part, he could have walked away. He knew that Lily had expected him to. She probably would have preferred him to walk away.

His jaw muscles locked tight as he looked down at this fiercely independent woman, half her face hidden in his shoulder. He struggled to poke his anger into life but instead experienced an overwhelming surge of protectiveness. It was primal and illogical, a throwback to hunter-gatherer days.

It was love.

They were right. Love did set you free. In his case the prison bars had been of his own making.

‘She’ll be fine, Elizabeth, just let...’ Blocked in a corner, he tried to ease past the woman, calling out, ‘In here, she fainted!’ Relieved to finally see assistance in the form of a nurse and a doctor, he reluctantly passed Lily onto the trolley that arrived.

As a child she had always been cynically sceptical of those scenes in films when the swooning heroine lifted a hand to her head and said in a faltering voice, ‘Where am I?’

As she opened her eyes and mumbled, ‘Did I faint?’ she felt some sympathy for those heroines.

‘Yes.’

Her eyes flew wide at the sound of his voice. Ben, she discovered, was standing beside the bed she lay on looking stern and—she gave her head a tiny shake—he was wearing what she thought of as his closed look.

‘Well, I suppose I did it in the right place,’ she said, struggling to pull herself upright, only to find her progress hindered by a large hand in the middle of her chest. ‘Will you stop that? I have to—’

‘You have to stay there and sit up gradually. Then you will drink this vile cup of tea the kind nurse made you, while I will go and reassure your mother that you are all right. Then I am taking you back home, where you will sleep.’

Out of the list Lily could see herself doing one: the cup of tea sounded good.

‘I’m—’

‘Let me guess, fine?’ he drawled, sounding bored.

‘Well, I am.’ She directed a pointed look at his hand planted on the middle of her chest. ‘But I won’t be if I can’t breathe.’

The pressure immediately lessened, which did not help the breathless feeling, suggesting it had more to do with than his proximity. She pressed her eyelids closed and breathed in the scent of his skin. Blindfolded, she could find him in a room of a hundred people; it was terrifying how fine-tuned all her senses were to him.

‘Can I get up now?’ Unaided, Lily, she reminded herself. Despite all her best intentions, she had leaned on him a lot during the last couple of weeks, and he’d been there. She was under no illusion, despite his deeply developed sense of duty, now that Emmy was out of danger how much contact he would want.

Access was the least she owed him; it was a debt she could not begin to pay. During the last weeks of uncertainty, her entire focus had been on her daughter’s...their daughter’s recovery. Lily had not even begun to think about what happened next, once Emmy was out of danger.

‘Slowly.’

She did so, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. They were in a curtained cubicle in an empty bay of beds. As she got up he pulled aside the curtain with a swish of fabric.

‘You all right?’

She lowered the hand she had lifted to her head. ‘Fine,’ she lied, fighting a wave of nausea.

‘Drink the tea.’ He wheeled the trolley closer and pointed at it.

‘Is that an order?’ His attitude made her want to grind her teeth and do the exact opposite, but she was awfully thirsty so it probably wasn’t worth making a fuss.

‘Don’t shoot the messenger.’

His ironic comment brought her eyes to his face, seeing for the first time the lines of strain etched around his spectacular eyes. Over the last couple of weeks she had rarely given much thought to how he was feeling.

‘This stoic stuff is admirable, to a point,’ he continued, ‘and then it just gets irritating. I know it goes against the grain for you to agree with anything I say and you have established the fact that my opinion counts for nothing. But none of those points are my idea. They are the doctor’s orders. Emily Rose,’ he said, enjoying giving her her full title, ‘is asleep. And you will be of little use to her if you end up as a patient here yourself.’

‘All right.’

His brows lifted at the ready capitulation. ‘Common sense? Will wonders never cease?’

She acknowledged the rueful comment with a twitch of her nose and admitted, ‘I know I need sleep, but I haven’t been able to switch off for weeks. I think I’ve forgotten how.’

She gave a yawn and a stretch and, his eyes on the smooth section of midriff it revealed, he found himself thinking of several interesting methods of helping her switch off... He on the other hand felt very switched on!

She lowered her arms, but the damage was done; all he could think about was kissing a path up the soft curve of her belly...or down and—

‘Besides, I couldn’t bear for her to wake up and be alone.’

The plaintive admission made him feel like a total bastard, when all he could think about was getting her clothes off.

‘She’s not going to be alone when she wakes up,’ he soothed, the colour scoring his cheekbones the only remaining evidence of the frustration that burned in his veins. ‘Your mother will be there and the nurses who, let’s face it, she has managed to wrap around her little finger.’

Lily grinned then yawned again, her hand patting her mouth. If this didn’t stop soon she’d dislocate her jaw. ‘She really is a charmer, isn’t she?’ she agreed with pride. ‘You’re right.’

‘Now that hardly hurt at all, did it?’

She shot him a look. ‘I do need some sleep. Could you give me a lift to the B & B?’ Did that sound pushy? ‘Or if you’re busy I could get a cab. Oh, could you ask Mum for the room card?’ Though Lily had only been to the small B & B once or twice, her mum had been sleeping there—except on the couple of occasions she had taken advantage of Ben’s offer of his helicopter and flown back home.

On the last occasion she had come back that same evening admitting that she could get very used to that form of transport. Then she had broken the news to Lily that her secret was no longer a secret.

News travelled fast in a small rural community and everyone now knew the identity of Emmy’s father.

Lily hadn’t really expected the news to spread so quickly. She had half anticipated that Ben’s grandfather might have wanted to bury the truth but he hadn’t and Lily found, rather to her own surprise, that she was not particularly concerned.

The only person she hadn’t wanted to know was Ben and now that he did, other people gossiping didn’t really matter to her.

‘Not walk?’ he mocked.

‘Actually I could, couldn’t I?’ She realised, missing the irony totally, the small B & B where her mum had taken a room was literally just round the corner from the hospital.

The initial idea had been for them to take turns sleeping there, but Lily had found it much less stressful to sleep in a chair by her daughter’s bed.

He looked at her for a moment and shook his head. ‘No, you couldn’t. I will take you, though obviously I will expect petrol money.’

The comment drew a reluctant smile from Lily. It was so much easier to smile now that the crushing weight of fear she hadn’t even been conscious of carrying had been lifted. It was there but no longer oppressive. It wouldn’t be gone until they were home.

‘Thank you.’ She took a sip of the tea and grimaced before calling after him. ‘It’s incredible, isn’t it?’

Framed in the open doorway, he turned. She was sitting there on the bed cross-legged, her face framed by wild curls. Smiling, she looked too young to be a mother. The effort of not crossing the room and pulling her under him on the bed was hard enough to bring beads of sweat to his upper lip.

She was incredible, so sweet and brave. Of course, she was also stubborn enough to drive a man insane, but he imagined most men would consider it a privilege.

‘It is, yes.’

Until he spoke Lily hadn’t been aware that she was holding her breath. As he vanished she released it, conscious of a gnawing sense of anticlimax. Had she imagined the tension in the air, the heavy throb of sexual awareness...?

Ten minutes later, her blood pressure had been checked and she had been discharged by a junior doctor who, in Ben’s opinion, had a hell of a lot to learn about professional distance. Now they made their way to the main entrance.

Lily read out loud the sign above the space near the main entrance where Ben had parked his long sleek silver car.

‘Reserved for the Chief Administrative Officer.’

‘What can I say? I’m a rebel.’ Torn between irritation and amusement, because she seemed genuinely outraged at the rule infringement, he made a placatory gesture. ‘Trust me, you’re more likely to see a flock of pigs fly past than see an administrator at work on a Saturday.’

Lily had forgotten it was the weekend, slightly alarming, but she wouldn’t let it go without making her point. ‘What would happen if we all went around breaking the rules?’

‘You think a bit of illegal parking is going to trigger the downfall of society?’

She gave a sudden grin. ‘No, but it’s fun winding you up.’

‘You little—!’

Heart pounding, she waited, but before Ben reached her a man in a porter’s uniform appeared, almost hidden behind the enormous elaborate flower arrangement he carried.

‘Miss Gray?’

Lily nodded, then, realising he couldn’t see her, said, ‘Yes?’

‘I’m on the front desk today, thought I saw you leaving.’ A head appeared around the side and she recognised one of the porters who had taken Emmy down to the X-ray department a few times. ‘This arrived for you.’

‘I’ll take that.’ Ben took the package by the handle of the massive wicker basket that the flowers were arranged in. He handed Lily the card without comment.

Lily paused to thank the porter before tearing the envelope open. ‘Who on earth?’ Then she smiled, thinking, Lara.

Her twin had sent a daily text to ask after Emmy but they had not spoken at all. It had been their mother who had broken the news to Lara—the double news.

Watching her, Ben saw the smile and then saw it fall as she said, ‘It’s from your grandfather.’

‘Who did you think it was from?’

Still frowning, she looked up from the card she had read twice now. ‘What...? Oh, I thought it might be from Lara.’

It took him a few seconds to recognise the emotion that fell away when he realised the flowers weren’t from an admirer—jealousy. Aware that Lily was looking expectantly at him, he pushed through the sense of shock and pulled himself together enough to respond. ‘Of course, it would be.’

Ben had said little after he had told his grandfather, but it had gone a lot better than he’d anticipated.

‘He says he’s looking forward to meeting his great-granddaughter...’ An old-fashioned sort of man, the elderly landowner was not the type of person who was relaxed about single parents. ‘And he is happy to welcome me into the family...wow!’ The sentiment was almost as over the top as the flowers.

‘Aren’t you surprised?’ she persisted, talking to Ben’s back as he stowed the flowers in the boot of the car before coming round to open the passenger door for her.

‘Not really—he had about given up on me having children.’

‘I really thought it would be awkward. I’m so relieved,’ she admitted. ‘I was worried that Mum might lose her home and job.’

Ben looked shocked by the suggestion. ‘Good God, Lily, he’s a stubborn old sod but he’s not a monster. He’d never punish your mother for the sins of—’

‘Me,’ she completed, sliding into the car with a face set like a carved cameo to hold back the sudden desire to cry.

Cursing fluently, Ben went round to his side of the car and got in. The car purred into life and he turned to Lily.

‘That wasn’t what I was about to say. I was just mixing up my metaphors and if we are talking sin...fair enough, bring it on!’

The invitation brought her head around. Ben was looking straight ahead, but she sucked in a tiny breath as he turned to face her. The blaze of sheer hunger in his eyes sent a deep shudder from her scalp to her curling toes.

‘Because I for one—’ she froze, unable to move a muscle as his long, warm fingers curved around her jaw ‘—enjoyed it, very much.’

If her brain hadn’t shut down she might have guessed what he meant to do, but it came as a total shock as, still holding her eyes, he fitted his mouth to hers.

Lily sighed, her eyes closing, her fingers clutching at air. The sensual caress deepened and her sigh became a soft moan in his mouth. He tasted so— Then it was over. His face stayed close to hers; she could feel his breath on her cheeks, on her eyelids.

‘It felt like that, and it gave us Emily Rose. If you want to call it sin, fine. I call it something...rare, very rare.’

She felt his hand brush against her breast as he straightened away from her. The next moment the big car was moving with a low growl out of the illegal parking space.

‘Damned roadworks!’

How did he do that? Her world had just shifted on its axis and he was acting as though nothing had happened between them. Layers of confusion on top of layers of fatigue meant that five minutes later she was wondering if any of that had actually just happened or had she fallen asleep and dreamt it all?

She was also wondering where she was. Lily held her tongue but as they turned into an affluent-looking tree-lined road of large private houses that overlooked a pretty park she had to say something. ‘You’re going the wrong way.’

‘No, I’m going the right way.’

Lily sighed. What was it with men and admitting they were lost? ‘I know I’m a mere woman but—’ Her voice raised a panicky octave. ‘Why are we stopping here?’

They had drawn up at the end of the road outside the last house. The largest by far, and Edwardian-looking, it was set back a long way and screened from the road by mature trees.

Presuming he was looking for some place to turn around, Lily twisted in her seat. As she did so the big high gates of the house opened and Ben drove through them. He brought the car to a halt on the cobbled forecourt.

He glanced at his phone. ‘Fifteen minutes, not bad.’

‘I suppose you’re going to tell me what you’re doing some time soon? Or am I meant to guess?’ she asked crankily as she stifled a yawn. Weirdly the erotic incident felt as though it had happened to someone else.

‘Didn’t I say?’ He held out a bunch of keys and dropped them in her lap. ‘You’re all set.’ He swivelled in his seat and glanced up, a critical frown furrowing his brow at the well-kept period façade. ‘So what do you think?’

‘Of what? Look, Ben, I’m tired. I’m not really in the mood for a treasure hunt.’ Or being kissed... Liar, liar, pants on fire, intoned the scornful voice in her head.

‘It’s not perfect,’ he admitted, ‘and clearly not a permanent solution, but there was not much choice within travelling distance of the hospital.’ Before she could respond to this obscure comment, he had leapt athletically out of the car.

Pressing her fingers to her temples, she waited while he came around to open the passenger door.

‘Have you got a headache?’

She dropped her hands, turned her head and looked at him. ‘It’s only a matter of time,’ she predicted. ‘Look, at this rate it will be time to get back to the hospital before I even get the B & B.’ The fizz of adrenaline after the all-clear had got her this far, but Lily doubted it would get her much farther. Her head felt like cotton wool and even lifting an arm was an effort.

He nodded, his eyes skimming her pale features. ‘You look totally spaced out,’ he roughed out huskily.

Lily roused herself to respond tetchily, ‘Well, you don’t look like an oil painting either.’

If only that were true. Even barely able to keep her eyelids open, just looking at him suffused her body with a deep ache of longing so intense that for a moment she couldn’t breathe. No oil paint existed that could possibly begin to convey the level of sheer energy he exuded.

He lifted a rueful hand to the stubble on his jaw, his mobile lips quirked in grin. ‘I’d like to think you love me for more than my body and sartorial elegance.’

She opened her mouth to retort in a similar style that she didn’t love him at all when the light bulbs in her head started flashing. The blood drained from her face.

Love!

When...how did that happen?

Love...? Not the childish crush that had turned him into a hero figure or even the passionate primal response to him as a man, but a soul-deep longing.

‘Not a perfect situation, obviously—’

She blinked. How long had she been sitting there with her mouth open? It had felt like a century, but Ben continued talking as if nothing had happened. Well, for him she supposed it hadn’t.

‘I picked up the keys this morning.’

She sat there trying to gather some strength before she levered herself out of the car with a gentle grunt of effort. There was no question of taking the hand he offered; she could barely look him in the face.

‘You’re staying here?’ she said, struggling to move past this sudden paralysing shyness as she focused on the building behind him.

She liked its solid proportions and the magical little green oasis of its setting, but it seemed an odd choice for Ben, who she saw more as an industrial loft sort of man.

‘Have you been listening to a word I’ve been saying?’ His exasperation faded as he scanned her face. ‘Come in,’ he said, concern roughing his voice as he placed a guiding hand in the small of her back.

‘I’m staying here?’

She walked ahead of him through the massive red door with its stained-glass panels. There were more panels in the big square hallway but, while most of the period features were in situ, including the mellow wood block floor, the décor was much more modern. The paintwork was all muted pastels, bright splashes of colour provided by an eclectic collection of modern art.

Feeling his eyes on her, she turned, looking at him through her lashes as she tipped her head. ‘It’s a very nice house,’ she said politely.

‘It’s only temporary. I bought it fully furnished so—what do the estate agents always say, look past the décor? The previous owners used the cottage in the garden for the housekeeper...she could stay on.’

‘I think it’s lovely, but I don’t really understand what it has got to do with me.’ Her head was full of her discovery; houses came a very poor second to love. When had it happened? Was it normal for love to creep up this way? Had it been little things like the silly ties?

‘I’ll explain tomorrow. What you need now is sleep.’ He glanced towards the big central staircase, wondering if she’d make it under her own steam.

Lily didn’t move. ‘You bought it...but why...?’ And when did he have the time? ‘Have you decided to move into property development?’

‘Not at the moment. Look, by now we both know that they allow children home a lot quicker when they live close enough to make treatment or checks on a daily basis possible.’

‘You bought a house so that Emmy could get home sooner...?’ She choked back the emotional sob that was never far away, her voice quivering as she said quietly, ‘You believed she’d get well.’